


The Innocence of Wonder

by libellules



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I don't speak British English but I tried, M/M, Piggy & Simon are only mentioned, character development yet no character development, don't expect closure, someone give me a history textbook, this is not a redemption arc story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 22:13:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16355243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libellules/pseuds/libellules
Summary: An epilogue of sorts.





	The Innocence of Wonder

Ralph looked up at the naval officer in what could only be described as a dream-like state. It couldn’t be real, it surely couldn’t all be over. All at once the crying had become silence, shock, and the only sound left was the crumbling of fire in the trees. The officer looked back down at Ralph. 

"Hullo."

"Hullo.” His words were soft, unsure, no tone a chief would ever use. Maybe it was time to stop being the chief. 

"Are there any adults--any grownups with you?" Ralph looked around, for what he wasn’t sure. He shook his head. 

"Fun and games. We saw your smoke. What have you been doing? Having a war or something?" 

If only he knew. If he did, he wouldn’t be smiling, grinning at Ralph and the boys covered in blood and war paint. He would leave them on the island if he knew the truth. 

"Nobody killed, I hope? Any dead bodies?" 

"Only two. And they've gone."

"Two? Killed?" Ralph couldn’t muster the words so he started down at the officer’s pearly white socks and nodded. His shoulders were trembling as the heat burned into his skin. 

Percival stepped forward and tugged at the hem of the naval officer’s pants. “I'm, I'm—” Poor little thing always had a hard time mustering up the courage to spit out his words. 

"We'll take you off. How many of you are there?" the officer questioned Ralph, forcing the young boy to look back up at him. He felt sick, so terribly ill he might explode. He couldn’t say a word, he had no idea. "Who's boss here?"

"I am.” His voice was slightly louder this time, sounding far more confident than he felt. Although behind him, Ralph could feel Jack’s presence move forward, not far enough for the officer to notice him.  
"We saw your smoke. And you don't know how many of you there are?"

"No, sir."

"I should have thought that a pack of British boys--you're all British, aren't you?--would have been able to put up a better show than that--I mean--" 

"It was like that at first before things--" He couldn’t continue, that ill feeling rising back up into his chest, setting him on fire like the island not long before. "We were together then--"

"I know. Jolly good show. Like the Coral Island." He wasn’t sure what to say, where to begin if he should even bother. And then he let himself cry, sobbing desperately into the sand. His entire little body shivered and he practically toppled over onto himself. The entire world spun around him and he latched helplessly onto his arms. It was over, it was finally over. 

The officer put a hand on his back and helped him stand up before walking forward to the rest of the boys. A different naval officer came over and guided his weeping form over to a small boat.

“We can take eight at a time,” Ralph heard one of them say to another. The officer lifted Ralph into the boat and then a few more of the boys. Percival was next to Ralph with tiny tears on his face but a grin from ear to ear. Ralph felt like vomiting as he coughed the smoke out of his lungs. He didn’t comfort Percival as he should, he had long parted from being their chief, he just wanted to go home. 

They arrived shortly at the main ship, larger than any building Ralph had ever seen. Officers began helping the boys on board. Ralph watched as Percival clutched the hand of one of the officers on the ship and wished desperately to be young enough to do the same. He followed as they were led to a room inside the ship filled with long, narrow tables and stools. Ralph continued to weep as they sat down, barely able to keep himself upright. They brought them food, warm, cooked food. 

He almost couldn’t eat, picking around at it like a bratty child. His hands trembled from the sobs, unable to keep his fork in his hands and instead shoved his face into his hands. A young officer, the same one who had held Percival’s hand, placed a gentle hand on his back, taking the seat next to him. 

“Things are going to be alright now.” That might have been so, but things would never be the same. He would never be able to live with himself knowing what they had done to… to Simon… Piggy. How could he sleep, how could he eat? 

As he looked around he saw some of the boys, many of the boys crying, and a few smiling. They looked so out of place at the table in their tattered uniforms and war paints. They were smelly and savage and they didn’t deserve to be on this ship with the warm, cooked food on plates in front of them holding forks and knives. 

Another group of boys were led in and brought to the table. A familiar lump of red hair sat across from Ralph, looking over him but refusing to meet his eyes. Not that Ralph was looking anyway. It was so strange, so surreal to sit next to Percival as he laughed with other littluns and played with tiny round peas as Jack sat across from him eating his meat quietly with a fork and knife. Each time he wiped his face with the napkin a little more of the blood and paint washed off, as if it was never there at all. Ralph couldn’t wash it away as easily. 

He couldn’t eat a bite the entire meal. When it was over and all the boys were on board the ship, they continued moving and a few officers came in to talk to them. It would be five days until they returned home. They had been gone for a year, another said. They were on a small island far off the coast of Portugal. They were given beds and sent off to clean up and change their clothes. It was a bit uncomfortable, the only clothes they had were for navy men and all of the boys were rather small. They looked like much smaller children in sleeping gowns. 

Ralph tossed and turned in his bunk that night. It was getting cold outside and the boat made him feel seasick. He wondered if Daddy got seasick on his – probably not, Daddy wouldn’t have become a navy commander if he got seasick. He would have been in the air force or something. He had promised Ralph that one day he would take him on a boat; now all he wanted was to go home. Piggy and Simon would never get to go home. Ralph suddenly wondered if any of the boys were hurt during the fire. 

“Ralph,” came a soft cry. It was coming from the bed next to him. It was Eric. 

“Yes?”

“I’m scared.” Ralph rolled onto his side to look at Eric. It was dark so all he could make out was the boy’s outline. 

“What of?”

“The bombs. What if Mummy and Daddy aren’t there when I get back. What are we to do?” Ralph hadn’t even thought of that. Of course, his Daddy would be at sea somewhere, maybe fighting in Germany. But he hadn’t considered what would happen to Mummy or Charles or Nancy. If they weren’t alright Ralph wasn’t sure what he would do. 

“They’re fine. They’re waiting for you and Sam to come home.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks, Ralph.” Eric smiled contently and closed his eyes. Ralph wished he believed his own words. Perhaps Mummy would let Sam and Eric come live with them if they had nowhere else to go. Or vice versa. 

Ralph ended up only getting a few hours of sleep that night, three maybe four. When he woke up he followed the rest of the boys back to the cafeteria for breakfast. He took a few bites but still couldn’t get much down. Jack sat next to him again, right beside him this time. Again, they didn’t say a word. 

The only time any of the biguns seemed to talk was at night when it was dark and it was almost like they were back on the island. Most of the littluns cried themselves to sleep, some of the officers would soothe them back to sleep but most would just wait until they finished and fall back to sleep themselves. Sometimes the biguns would cry too, and nobody would speak much of it. Sometimes they would speak of seeing their Mum or going back to school. Nobody spoke of the island. 

Finally, on the third day, Jack spoke to him. It was during dinner and Ralph was picking at his food again, take a few small bites of the meat and the peas. 

“Ralph.” Still silent, he looked up at Jack’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry. I never wanted them to hurt you.” 

“What about Simon? Huh, Piggy?” 

“I’m sorry, Ralph.” And Ralph believed him, he sounded sorry. He didn’t believe because he thought he was a good person, he believed him because he too contributed in Simon’s death and he understood what it felt like to feel sick about it. He had scorched the island, yet it had gotten them rescued. 

“Okay.” 

“Do you forgive me?” Jack pushed taking a large bite off his fork and grinding it into his teeth. How did Jack manage to always look so deeply into his eyes?

“Why should I do that?”

“C’mon Ralph, you know I’m sorry.” 

“I know your sorry, but I don’t forgive you.” 

“Why not?” Jack looked genuinely confused by his refusal. Did he not know why Ralph couldn’t forgive him? Ralph couldn’t even forgive himself, let alone Jack. “Please, Ralph I’m so sorry.”

“Okay.” But he wasn’t going to forgive him. They continued eating, Jack eating his meat and Ralph stirring his peas around. 

“What’s your family like?” 

“My family?”

“Yeah, your family.” 

“Well, Daddy’s a navy commander, Mum is a nurse, and I’ve got a brother and sister in secondary school, Nancy and Charles. What’s your family like?”

“Oh, my father works in the bank and my mum died when I was a baby. I don’t have any brothers or sisters. That must be nice.” 

“Yeah, I suppose it is.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Do you think your brother had to go fight in the war?”

“I don’t know, I suppose he might’ve. He’s seventeen, well eighteen now it seems.” 

“Maybe someday I’ll go fight in the war.”

“I never want to fight in any war.”

“How come?”

Ralph just shook his head. Jack knew why and Ralph wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of an answer. He took a taste of his peas. They were cold. 

“I’ll probably work in the bank like my father.” Ralph was grateful he had changed the subject and was, for some strange reason, slightly comforted that he had continued speaking. 

“Suppose I might be a nurse like Mum, or work in the library like my uncle John.” 

“Maybe I’ll sing in a play.” Ralph turned toward Jack again. 

“I never actually heard you sing, on the island that is.”

“That’s quite a pity. I’m a rather good singer.” 

“So, I’ve heard.” They both chuckled softly. For a moment the image of Jack and the choir boys parading in singing a soft tune seemed like a funny memory. The island wasn’t always so bad. They hadn’t always been enemies. They’d once been friends, allies — possibly something slightly more. 

Jack had helped Ralph on the island for a while. When he stumbled into his role as chief, unsure of how to lead or keep everyone united and hopeful, Jack stepped up. He motivated people, he took care of everyone. It was only the last day of the island he stopped taking care of Ralph. Strange to think about the Jack who would cross enemy lines to give him food and the Jack would almost put his head on a spear. 

Dinner was over and Ralph was ready to crawl back into bed, maybe chat a little bit with Sam and Eric or maybe just go directly to sleep. He got four hours that night instead of three, it felt like a tiny miracle. Jack sat next to him at breakfast and they talked about their homes again. Ralph wanted to try out for the football team this year, Charles had promised to teach him to play before he left. Jack was going to be part of the school production of Romeo and Juliet. 

“You ought to be in a play yourself Ralph.”

“I’m no good a singer.” 

“You don’t need to sing. Juliet only has spoken lines.” Ralph tossed a light punch to his arm with reddened cheeks. 

“I’m not a girl.” 

“Ralph, silly, that’s what Shakespeare wanted. All the roles in his plays were male actors. So you can be Juliet if you want to.”

“Shut up.”

They talked again at lunch and again at dinner. It was growing less uncomfortable each time, more and more like those first few months on the island when they worked together. Ralph really had liked Jack, thought they were friends. But then Jack let the fire go out and they yelled and he left. Ralph still couldn’t believe he would just leave like that – leave him like that. Not that he was going to say anything about it now.

Ralph had opened up to Jack about how he felt spending day after day building shelter and tending to the littluns just to be ignored and overlooked by Jack and his marvelous hunters. Jack had promised to do better, and he had for a week or so. And then he got worse and then left and Ralph was alone and betrayed all over again. Except Jack didn’t come back at sunrise to ask for Ralph’s forgiveness. 

That night Jack was in Eric’s bed. 

“Hey, that’s my bed.”

“My bed was closer to Sam, you’re welcome.” Eric uncrossed his arms and smiled, walking back towards the bunk beside Sam’s. Ralph grinned as Jack chuckled. 

“We’re going home tomorrow,” said Ralph, allowing his voice to become somewhat hopeful for the first time in a while. 

“I cannot wait to take a proper bath.” 

“You could use one.” Jack lightly hit him across the chest with a pillow. They both laughed softly. It was quiet for a while before Ralph spoke again. “Do you think my mum is going to be waiting for me when we arrive home?” 

“She’s probably waiting at the harbor right now, Ralph.” It was enough for Ralph to sleep easy that night. Something about the confidence Jack used when he spoke always gave Ralph a strange sense of comfort. 

The first night, after the beastie debate began, Ralph had been sitting beside Jack. It was growing dark and getting colder as the breeze swept across the beach. He wasn’t scared, but he was close to Jack. 

“Do you think there really is a beastie out there?”

Jack never patronized him when he asked, never treated him like a littlun. He looked Ralph directly in the eyes when he answered him and told him the truth. 

“Of course not. And if there was, I would take care of it.”

Ralph believed him every time. 

The next morning the officers told the children to pack their things and get ready to dock. They didn’t really have any things though, other than the large bed shirts that fell at their knees and ankles. 

“I want to put on my own clothes,” Jack said as crowded behind a few officers who were to escort them off the ship and to their families. 

“Some pants would certainly be nice.” 

Finally, they followed the officers through a door and out of the ship to a stairwell. The sun was only beginning to rise into the sky but a swarm of photographers lit up the morning air and everything seemed to glow. The smell of fish and sewage was masked by the reporters and the crowd of parents calling out children’s names. They pounded down the stairs, Ralph and Jack stuck somewhere in the middle of the children. 

“Mum!”

“Bill!”

“Mummy!”

“Where are you?”

“Sam! Eric!”

“Daddy!”

“Can you see me?”

“Percival!”

“Mummy!”

“Ralph!” Ralph’s head swung left and right looking for the familiar sounding voice calling his name. It was his mum, she was alright. He rose onto the tips of his toes and looked for her soft blond waves of hair. He spotted her with his picture gripped in her hand twirling above the crowd. 

“Mummy!” He leaped into arms steading him on his shaking feet, pulling him in tightly against her chest as fingers loving lifted him into the air. He clutched onto her, ankles snaking around her waist. His face was held firmly against the crook of her neck. 

“Ralphie, oh sweetheart we were so worried about you.” He began to cry, hands gripped the back of her coat. “Oh, baby.” She was rocking him like a child far younger than thirteen — had he really had a birthday on the island? She smelled like home and he could feel her strong hands wrapped under his bum and on the back of his head. Her own tears soaked through the large sailor shirt. Ralph was ready to stay tucked away in her strong arms forever until she pulled his face back enough to look into his eyes. Pressing a kiss to his forehead and wiping away some of his tears, she placed him back down on the cobblestones. 

“What kind of clothes have they put you in? Let’s go home, alright? We can get you some clothes, some tea.” Hand still locked tightly in hers, Ralph looked around the crowd. “Is there someone you’re looking for?”

“I want to say goodbye.” Her eyes softened and she nodded. He let go of her hand and looked for the familiar red hair. Jack was with a navy officer and a man in a long brown coat. The man is the coat wasn’t smiling so Ralph assumed it couldn’t be his father. Surely his father would be smiling. Ralph approached them cautiously. 

“Jack.” 

“Ralph, did you find your Mum?” Ralph nodded, pointing behind him where his mum had followed. She smiled at Jack. 

“Where’s your dad?” 

“He’s not here. Either late or lost or perhaps gone in the war.” Jack’s shoulders dropped and his bit down on his tongue. 

“Can the boy stay with us?” Ralph’s mum suddenly asked the man in the brown coat. 

“I suppose that would be alright. You will need to leave me your home address and telephone number so if the boy’s father does arrive we can reach you,” said the man. Ralph’s mum nodded and gave them to man. Jack smiled sadly at Ralph and Ralph the same to Jack. She took a hand of each boy to guide them out of the crowd of people, flashes from cameras and journalists every way they turned. 

“What happened on that island?”

“How did you survive?”

“Did you all survive?”

She pulled them out of the crowd and finally out of the harbor, letting go of their hands.

“Your name is Jack?” 

“Jack Merridew, pleasure to meet you.” He shook her hand. 

“Where do you live, Jack?” 

“I live in London with my father.” 

“We live here in Brighton. If your father comes to the harbor searching for you it won’t be long until he finds our home.” She led them down a few streets until they reached a street filled with narrow brick homes with iron gates, flower bushes, and chimney tops. Ralph could see their navy door and could hear Mr. Edward’s dog barking in the house next door. Ralph’s mum opened the lock on the gate and Ralph practically ran up the steps.

The door opened as he came running up and a girl a little taller than his mum opened her arms wide. She had to be sixteen by now. She knelt down so they were level and pulled him against her chest, hand running through his fluffy hair to hold him tightly against her. 

“Ralphie, we missed you so much,” she kissed his forehead and wiped tears off her own cheeks and then from Ralph’s. “You’re taller, at least five centimeters. 

“Come on now, we don’t want all the heat to get outside. Nancy this is Jack, Jack this is Ralph’s sister Nancy.” She led all three of the children inside, locking the front behind them and hanging her coat up on the hook. 

“Nancy put a kettle on the stove while I find some clothes for the boys.” 

Nancy led Ralph and Jack into the kitchen, both taking a seat at the table while she filled the tea kettle with water and turned on the stove. 

“We were so worried about you Ralph. We were sure… oh, we were sure that you hadn’t survived after six months of hearing nothing of you. Poor Charles, he left to join Daddy on his ship thinking you weren’t coming back. Just wait until we send him a letter saying you’ve come home. I’ll bet he comes rushing home immediately,” she turned to look at them, smiling gently at Jack, “I’ll bet your mum and daddy are wanting to see you too.” 

Jack shifted his weight in his chair and played with the teacup in front of him. Ralph couldn’t tell if it’s was nerves or just discomfort. 

“Jack’s mum died,” Ralph said. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Well, your father ought to be worried mighty sick about you. Are you hungry? You both look like you’re hungry.” Nancy always rambled like that, sometimes Mum and Charles would tease her about it. She did it when she was excited or nervous or bored, mostly all the time. Ralph had almost forgotten she even did that.

“I’m starving,” said Jack grinning brightly. Ralph’s mum reappeared in the doorway with a pile of neatly folded clothes. She motioned for the boys to stand up with her empty hand, setting the clothes onto the floor with the other. She held them up to Ralph and then to Jack. 

“These should fit, might be a little short on you Jack, but you’re both so skinny I think it will be okay.” She handed both boys a little pile of clothes and sent them off to change. Ralph ran his fingers over the railing admiringly as he walked upstairs to his bedroom, second door on the right. It was exactly how he had left it. His bed was made, shelves organized, and desk tidy. He removed the large shirt and tossed it into the bin. He slid on his underwear and socks first and then pulled the corduroys on. They were a bit big at the wait but with a belt, they ought to stay up just fine. He pulled on a shirt and his sweater. It was so nice to wear clothes again, real clothes without rips and tears once drenched in saltwater and sand. Hearing the kettle cry, he hurried back downstairs. 

Jack was talking to Nancy about something when Ralph walked into the kitchen. The pants were far too short on Jack, falling above his ankles and the shirt above his midriff. He looked rather silly but Ralph wouldn’t tease him about it. Mum was pouring the tea, tossing an extra spoon of sugar in Ralph’s cup, and then ladled a bowl of soup for all four of them. They talked about all sorts of things as they ate. They talked about Charles and how he joined the navy and about how Nancy had been working at the library because Uncle Robert had joined the army and had yet to return. Nancy also had a new boyfriend who played football and returned from the army about a month ago. 

“Did it rain a lot on the island? I hear it does that quite often there,” Nancy asked. Ralph’s mum sent her a stern look but Jack began to answer before she could scold her. 

“Actually no, not often. We did get some pretty awful storms every now and then. We had to sleep in the caves those nights.” Ralph took a sip of his soup quietly. He didn’t really want to talk about the island, it was over and it should stay over. 

“Well it’s supposed to rain most of the week, you know Brighton, so it’s a good thing you have a roof over your heads again.” Jack nodded. Nancy continued to talk about her boyfriend and the library for the rest of the meal. When they finished Nancy kissed her mother’s cheek and pulled Ralph in for another tight hug. “I have to go to work, now. Until tonight.” And she headed out the door. 

“Are you working today too?” Ralph asked his mum as she put the empty pot into the sink to clean. She poured them each another cup of tea. 

“No sweetheart, I’m not going to go in today. With all the soldiers coming home, it’s alright that I take the day off. Why don’t we buy Jack some clothes that’ll fit him and we can even stop by the bakery and get a pie for tonight to celebrate?” Jack grinned, Ralph grinned a little bit too. It had been so long since he had dessert. 

They finished their tea and washed up before leaving to go to the shops. Jack had one of Ralph’s winter coats and the sleeves were so short it made Ralph laugh to see. 

“I’ve never been to Brighton before,” Jack said as they walked down the street toward town. “Seems like a nice place.” 

“It gets awfully cold and rainy, but where in England doesn’t? We moved here when Ralph’s father joined the navy so we would be closer to the ports than we had been in London where I grew up.” 

“I didn’t know you were from London as well,” Jack hummed rather contently as they passed a flower shop and a restaurant. 

“Why haven’t we ever been?” Ralph asked. 

“Darling you have, you were just too young to remember. We haven’t been back since Ralph’s grandmother died. Haven’t had much of a reason I suppose.” 

“It’s not all that people make it out to be. It’s loud and filled with traveling Americans.” Ralph’s mother chuckled, stopped to enter a small tailor's. She had the boys' measurements taken and then ordered them both some new clothes. 

“Is that Ralph Williamson I see?” An older woman asked as she wandered into the shop from some back room. “Oh, it is! Hallelujah dear child, you have had us all so worried.” 

“Why don’t we get Jack a new coat as well, just in case it takes your father some time to arrive. It’s getting cold quickly and we can’t have you getting sick in that.” She walked up to the counter to talk with the woman some more. 

“Who’s that?” Jack asked motioning to the woman. 

“That’s our neighbor, Mrs. Jeffrey. She makes all of our clothes.” Jack nodded. 

“Your mum is really nice.” 

“Yeah, she is.”

“Reminds me of you.” Ralph gave his arm a push and ran his fingers along the silk fabric samples in one of the baskets. 

“She’s not always this nice. Usually, she won’t quit bothering me to help clean or do my schoolwork.” 

“Father never really asks much of me, not around enough to do so. When he is around, he usually brings home a woman he’s met or some friends from the bank to play cards.” 

“What do you do when he’s not around?” 

“Pardon?”

“Are just on your own then?”

“Yes on my own. Well, except for our housekeeper Edna. She’s always around.”

“Do you think she’ll be the one to fetch you?”

“No of course not, she’s busy tending to the house. It will be father.” Ralph nodded, wondering when he would see his own father next. Day and night on the island he fantasized of his daddy pulling up to the shore in his ship and rescuing all of them. 

“Alright boys, let’s go to the bakery now. Thank you, Helen.” She led the boys back out of the shop and into the streets. It was getting busier now, many people were opening their shops for the day or out to fetch some supplies. Some of the buildings were damaged from the war, but only little bits here and there. The street was still filled with people carrying wallets of money to buy food and cakes and new books to read. Ralph wondered what the streets near Jack’s home looked like, surely London was worse off than Brighton. 

Once in the bakery, Ralph and Jack drooled over the display of cakes, biscuits, and pies. It had been so long since anything had tasted good, let alone as delicious as desserts. They picked out a cherry pie to take home and then it was boxed up promptly. Ralph’s mum handed him the box to carry and very firmly reminded me to be extra careful not to drop it.

* * *

Ralph crawled into bed that night completely exhausted and stuffed. He had barely made a dent in his serving of pie but it was enough to make his belly feel like it normally did after Christmas dinner. The bed was soft on his sore stomach, he forgot how soft beds could be. 

He tugged the covers around himself and his hand reached for the bedside light. He considered turning it out and going to sleep in a dark room like always. However, the dark immediately reminded me of beasts and fire and storms. He kept the light on. 

He watched as a heavy rain began to drizzle down the window and listened as it bounced into the puddles on the street down below. The rain on the island wasn’t peaceful when it surrounded him in his sleep and woke him in a shivering fright. Here the rain was soft and gentle, the sound of a quiet pattering gently luring him to sleep. 

There was a knock on his door and then his mum walked in, closing it quietly behind her. She sat on the edge of the bed beside his feet and ran her fingers tenderly down his jaw. 

“I missed you so much, baby. Every day, all I could think about was my little Ralph coming home to me.” Her eyes were wet and she was so evidently trying to smile through her emotions. Ralph let her intertwine their fingers. She kissed his cheeks and squeezed his hand. “Are you okay?” 

He shook his head ever so slightly. A tear leaked from her eye and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing him against her chest in a hug. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” 

It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate her words, but they couldn’t make up for what he saw, what he went through on that island. They couldn’t even begin to really soothe his mind. 

“I was so s-scared,” he admitted through a shaky breath. Her fingertips ran circles against the skin in his back. He clung to her and rested his head in the crook of her neck. “It was so awful, Mum.” 

“Sweetheart, I’m so proud of you.” She wiped tears out of his eyes he hadn’t realized he’d let slip. He didn’t meet her eyes as his breath hitched and hiccuped, tears continuing down his face. “It’s okay, it’s all over. You’re home now. You’re safe.”

Safe. Would he ever really understand the meaning behind the word safe? He wasn’t safe on the island, not for a single moment. He was home now, but what if there was another was and he was shipped away again? The only thing safe was his mother’s arms wrapped tightly around him, shielding him from evils, many of which had already begun to creep into his soul. 

Simon, Piggy. They weren’t safe. They would never be safe again. Was Jack’s father ever going to fetch him? Would he ever be safe again? Would he ever try to hurt Ralph again? 

“D-Don’t leave me.” Her grip tightened and she ran fingers through his hair, up and down his back. His entire body trembled, terrified, exhausted, defeated. 

“Never. I will always be here. Nobody is ever going to take you away again, I promise.” Her soft warmth and steady arms finally put him to sleep where he finally was able to sleep through the night. It had perhaps been the entire year without a good night’s sleep. So he slept soundly in a warm bed as rain gently sang the nights call. No nightmares or night terrors awoke him, only the sound of a tea kettle and his mother’s gentle fingers brushing the hair off of his face.

* * *

It had been almost a month since they’d been rescued. Jack’s father had still yet to retrieve him and he had been staying with Ralph and his family ever since. Ralph’s father and brother were still off somewhere at sea and it was getting to be Christmas season soon. It had gotten very cold very quickly with an early snowfall in November. Ralph’s mum bought Jack new winter boots. She knitted each of her children socks and scarf, with an extra set for Jack of course. 

In some weird way, he and Ralph seemed to have a decently healthy or perhaps more accurately a functional relationship. They never really talked about the island, most of the time Jack was teasing Ralph about something or simply making him laugh. This Jack was completely different than the boy the island had turned him into. He was like a more mature version of the Jack he met on the first day who wanted to sing and wouldn’t let Ralph search for the beastie on his own. 

Sometimes Ralph could hear Jack having nightmares about the island through the walls between their rooms — Jack was staying in Charles’ bedroom until he came home. He never mentioned them and Jack never mentioned Ralph’s either. He assumed Jack had to have heard them. Many things were left unsaid between them, fields of forbidden territory. 

It had happened a few times on the island where Ralph or Jack had a nightmare. Ralph usually comforted the littluns through their tears until they fell back to sleep. Often they would even sneak away from Jack’s camp to seek comfort in Ralph. They would be back to camp before Jack had realized they were gone; Ralph would never say a word of it. 

But sometimes it was Ralph who would wake up terrified of the wind or the deep sea or a beastie or even the image of Simon and Piggy. A few times he was so desperate he crawled up to Jack’s camp and would lay beside Jack. The first night on the island Jack had soothed Ralph through a nightmare about the plane crash, and Ralph figured he might do it again. Jack had held him similarly to the way his mum did. He had felt protected and safe. 

That was the thing about Jack and Ralph, they were always there at the end of it all. No matter how many betrayals or how far away Jack ran, he would still be there when Ralph needed him, he would still protect him. Ralph didn’t understand it at all, one minute it was sunny and Jack was hunting and calling Ralph a coward and the next minute it was dark and he would wrap skinny arms around Ralph and tell him how brave he was. And Ralph would lay against his chest and let Jack hold him. By morning he was back on his own beach tucked away in his shelter with restless littluns. 

Sometimes Jack would wake Ralph with puffy but dry eyes and they would sit and talk softly until Jack decided he had had enough and returned to his own beach. Sometimes he would hold Ralph’s hand as they spoke. Once he fell asleep at Ralph’s beach by mistake. 

Ralph had wondered what is all meant, all the emotions and the confusion. He thought about the way Jack would hold him as he cried himself to sleep and about the way he could grip Ralph’s hand as he talked about different sea creatures he’d read about in books. Most of the boys here, most of Ralph’s friends, weren’t like that. Their friendship wasn’t normal. The way Jack could make him blush wasn’t like anything Ralph could comprehend. He figured it the trauma and the island that made it different seemed to ignite it from underneath. 

Back in England, things were different, Ralph didn’t crawl into Jack’s bed for comfort or hold his hand when he heard him crying through the walls. They teased, they blushed, they laughed. It was shallow and lacking in anything that dared to dig past the surface. But it passed for normal, it was no longer something that Ralph had to question. And yet now he was questioning it the most. 

He almost missed Jack. His Jack. He wasn’t sure why or how he could even feel that way when the Jack from the island was ruthless and savage. The Jack from the island wasn’t somebody to be missed, to be deserving of it. Nonetheless, something inside Ralph continued to miss him. Or maybe, he missed them — what they had. It wasn’t something Ralph had ever felt with anybody else. It wasn’t something we could explain quite yet. 

When Nancy talked about her boyfriend she got this weird look in her eyes that reminded Ralph of the look that Jack sometimes gave him. It was all loving, hating, hopeful, sad, and knowing at the same time. It was the look that Jack gave him when he told him there was so beastie and that he would protect Ralph. It was confusing because Jack wasn’t his boyfriend, he couldn’t be because Ralph was a boy. He wondered what that meant about himself even more so than what it meant about them. Why did he even connect Jack to Nancy’s boyfriend? 

He caught himself thinking about Jack and his relationship too often for his liking. He found himself blushing and feeling nervous and hoping for something, what he wasn’t quite sure. He found himself waiting for some kind of message from Jack telling him what they were, what he was feeling. He was too shy to ask and too confused to explain it himself. 

But it never seemed to come, just two boys sleeping restlessly between a thing wall in warm Brighton beds dreaming of a haunted island and fleeting moments.

* * *

It was Christmas Eve and Ralph’s mum had dressed them up in their Sunday best to attend the Christmas Eve service at church. The church was crowded and narrow, everyone holding an unlit candle. Ralph held his candle nervously. He was afraid of fire, one of the consequences of the island that stuck with him daily. Mum had told him that he absolutely had to attend the Christmas Eve service but she could hold his candle if he was too afraid to do so himself. 

_Oh come, oh come Emmanuel_ echoed through the church from the choir and every person in the pews. Ralph listened acutely for the sound of Jack’s voice. _And ransom captive Israel._ He smiled shyly when their eyes met. Jack knew he was a good singer. 

Sometimes Jack would hum around the house but Ralph had still been waiting to hear him really sing. He had begun to wonder if maybe it was possible that Jack wasn’t good and that was the reason he wouldn’t sing for Ralph. He was wrong about that for sure. Jack could sing. 

_That mourns in lonely exile here. Until the son of God appears._ People began to light the candles one by one from the alter down the pews, the room suddenly igniting in little glowing stars, _rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel_ , and the caramel sweetness of Jack’s voice glazing through the highest of notes. He allowed his mother to light his candle before he lit Jack’s. 

When the service was over Ralph’s mother and Nancy went to give kind words to the pastor and the boys waited in the courtyard. 

“You can sing,” said Ralph. Jack grinned. 

“Well, of course, I can sing. I said I could, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, you did. But you never sing.” 

“When do you expect that I sing?” Ralph shrugged. The island wasn’t exactly a calm and happy place to sing Christmas songs. Campfire songs had always been unspokenly out of the question. Ralph ran his heal in a circle on the stones, pushing the snow around until the fleece below him was flattened. Jack watched him. “I could sing again if you’d like. Sing you a song or something.” 

“You don’t need to sing me a song.”

“But I will, if you’d want me to.” 

The snow was beginning to fall and Nancy had said the weathermen predicted it might be a white Christmas this year. Ralph sometimes imagined what it would have been like if they had been on an island where it snowed, they probably would have frozen to death. He tugged his hat down to cover his ears and rewrapped his scarf as they waited. 

“Are you going to go back to school after Christmas?” Jack asked suddenly. 

“Maybe, if Mum wants me to. Might be awfully hard to start mid-year though.” 

“You’re smart, it will be fine.” 

“Will you join too? Until your father comes to fetch you at least.” Jack’s eyes met Ralph’s and he looked very serious, older than he was. 

“I’m not so sure my father is coming.” 

“Why not? Have you heard-,”

“If was coming to get me, oughtn’t he have done it by now?” 

“Maybe he’s still coming home from the war.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Jack shoved his hands into the pockets of his coats and swung back and forth on his feet. “Sure is getting colder.” 

“You could come to school with me if you’d like. We don’t have choir boys, but we have lots of things to study.” Jack nodded. 

“Alright, for now, that will have to do.” 

Ralph’s mum and Nancy finally exited the church and met the two boys out front, walking down the streets toward home. 

“Mum?”

“Yes, Ralph.”

“Will Jack and I go to school after Christmas.” 

“I suppose we could enroll Jack in your school for the time being. How old are you, Jack?”

“Thirteen, I’ll be fourteen in January though.” 

“A boy almost fourteen ought to be having lessons.” Ralph nodded and smiled over at the red-headed boy. “Daddy and Charles will be home after Christmas Day.” 

“Really? Do they know that Ralph has come home?” 

“No Nancy, it will be quite the surprise to see him.” 

They weren’t far from home but it was very cold and very windy, Ralph imagined the warmth of the fireplace and the softness of a new pair of knit socks. Turning onto their street, Jack and Ralph raced to the front gate. Jack started off really fast, slowing down at the end for some reason as Ralph trailed behind him. Ralph got to the gate first. 

“I win.”

“Alright, alright. You win.” 

Laughing in brief moment of a childish innocence, the boys discarded their wet boots onto the front deck and disappeared into the house, Nancy and Ralph’s mum trailing into the kitchen to fix tea and dessert. They always had rice porridge and peppermint tea on Christmas Eve. When he was younger, Ralph and his siblings would crawl into their parents’ bed and listen to the _Night Before Christmas_ until they fell asleep. Daddy and Charles were gone though, and Jack was in their place. It was a peculiar Christmas Eve for sure. 

Ralph tossed a match into the fireplace and then curled into the couch in exhaustion. It took him a moment to process the emotions twisting through his thoughts. For so long he had been trapped far from home, afraid, alone to wither away. And then suddenly it was Christmas Eve and Mummy and Nancy were in the room next door laughing about something funny they heard in the paper, listening to smooth carols on the radio. They echoed through the thin walls, bouncing from window pane to the velvet couch beneath Ralph. He was really _home_ ; it wasn’t some nightmare or cruel hallucination. He had survived. 

Jack was on the couch beside him, shoulders almost touching. The soles of his feet rested on the coffee table in front of them, his hand running through his frizzy red hair. 

“I really miss him.”

“Who?”

“My father.” Ralph was silent, unsure of what to say. Jack’s life was still such a mystery to Ralph, it was unknown waters. Tread lightly. “All of this… Christmas stuff. I don’t know.” Ralph nodded, tugging a blanket off the end of the couch and set it gently over them both. 

“I miss my daddy too.” Jack’s hand hovered above Ralph’s for a moment before he hesitantly intertwined their skinny fingers beneath the blanket. A faint blush grew on each boy’s face. Their eyes looked forward, refusing to meet. 

“I’m glad that I’m here, with you.” Jack’s face turned so his eyes could follow Ralph’s silhouette. The crackling fire glowing behind him turning the fair-haired boy into a shadow. He watched as Ralph took a deep breath. 

“I still haven’t forgiven you for what you did.” 

“I don’t expect you to, Ralph.” Ralph turned so their eyes finally locked. 

“Then what are we doing?” Jack shifted, legs resting against Ralph’s, laying his cheek on the fisted hand not holding onto Ralph. Ralph felt close to Jack he in a way he never had before. They were both open and vulnerable in their positions beneath the blanket. It was more intimate than the hugs they had snuck in the darkness of stormy nights tucked in the brush far beyond the camps. 

“Why does it need a name? Can’t we just let it be what it is?”

“And what’s that, Jack?” Something of a smile threatened to tug at the ends of Jack’s lips. The fire reflected in his eyes, shimmering like his red hair. 

He began to lean in toward Ralph. Unsure, confused, and a little bit excited Ralph felt his chest pushing away as his face remained still, waiting. Their lips touched so lightly and so quickly it was almost as if it hadn’t even happened. Jack’s eyes flicked down to stare at their woven hands, Ralph stood up suddenly to tend to the fireplace as the room lost some of its glow. Neither said a word as Nancy and Ralph’s mum brought in the tea and porridge.

* * *

Two days after Christmas, one day after Charles and Ralph’s daddy returned home, a man knocked on their front door. He was asking for Jack. 

It was his father. 

Ralph watched as Jack latched onto him in a tight embrace. The man didn’t allow it to last long before entering the home to order Jack to fetch his things so they could get a start on their journey back to London. Ralph watched from the den as Jack ran up the stairs. Ralph’s mum talked to him quietly as they waited. Jack brought down his things and Ralph’s mum gave him a small hug. Jack’s eyes met Ralph’s across the room, he nodded at him. No goodbye, no apology, nothing. He left with his father. 

Ralph was alone again in a way he never knew possible. He hated Jack, he loathed him so much. Red hair kept him awake at night trembling and afraid. A tear slipped from his eye as he watched him go. 

What were they? What had they been? Two boys stuck somewhere between love and hate, admiration and disgust. Ralph refused to let another tear fall; Jack wasn’t worth it. Had Ralph really loved him? Was it possible to love the person who tortured you, who betrayed you in the worst ways possible? Could someone who had done inexcusable, unforgivable things be capable of receiving or giving love. 

Why had Jack kissed him? They were boys, boys oughtn’t to do such things with each other. Why hadn’t Ralph denied it? Ralph curled around himself on the couch, the same spot they had been that night. 

Why hadn’t he said goodbye?

**Author's Note:**

> Are people even writing LOTF fics anymore? For some reason, I got the urge to write something about these two the other day and it eventually turned into this confusingly long drabble that proves I need all sorts of history classes.


End file.
